#modernsonnet

[maurice-lenox26]

Route 50 Sonnet

Along the road, contemplating last bus missed                                                      and golden opportunities--”if only”                                                                          is empty, listless...

Exhausted thought, plodding along open                                                                highway, vision sharpens and it appears                                                                clearly, the swollen

sky incapable of containing divine                                                                          secrets, highway signs gleaned approximate, prom-                                             --ising terminal climb           

onward, and for the lack of anything missed                                                            for opportunities are illusory in beguiling mist.     

Samuel Maurice (c) October, 2019                           

[inkandpins]

Sonnet #2: COLD COFFEE

As soon as I’m awake I’m aware of the smell of fried eggs and coffee beans. Light hits my eyes with a strong glare, pouring brightness into our bed.

Eyes open, I’m aware that the world is moving, running without me. Blue shirt discarded in an empty chair a dent in my pillow in the shape of your head.

When I close my eyes, I’m aware I won’t get to rest, the night  has other things planned for us.

As soon as I am asleep, I am aware your coffee was left untouched, cold in your cup. You won’t be here when I get up. 

N.Y. 09.18.

[putrilyy]

Through the Summer Storm

When the rain poured down in the hot ambiance of summer, The daunting mem’ry of the hopeless young romance came back; The midnight throes of when we were dressed in dapper, It reminds me of nothing but everything that we lack;

When the rain poured down with tears of sorrow, The grieve remembrance of the feelings of being forlorn; The sound of your voice smother in mellow, The promises that thou created only to be torn;

When the sun smiles down to the ever-lasting heart of mine, I’ve mastered the unpredictable summer storm; I shan’t again open the tightly clutched heart of mine, Anon, make thy way to reform;

When the sun was piercing through the o’ forgotten smiles, I’ve given a chance to love myself again; The coward courage heart was steeled before it seals, Only to be given to those who are able to decorate the heart shrine;

The chapter of our sordid tales have finally come to an end, The end of a love life that shan’t happen again!

Putri Athirah binti Azman, “Through the Summer Storm”

[enterintocreation]

One of the ones I actually like so you can read this

The Death Dance

  Is a tree really life if family fails to observe

LIFE no worth of product, power, prowess and

Proof; performance: optic nerve notice concluding concrete callous cause of

Death: equals end, dead, done, the marvelous metaphor for finished,

Fine, done. Missing is anticipative, confident, optimistic positive of

Forever GONE. Lost is a chance to be found

When life, living being, seeing, bleeding, knowing, doing are

Gone. Done dead deceased departed heaven-or-hell bound,

Down, no nocturne numb necro night-infinite inanimate datum of department,

Deceased death. There’s a lack in genuine lucid loving crying

When it’s missing, not martyred.

No infamous fibbing fable of backstory

Tale telling heroic, conflicting, injury and infection inflicting

Dance with death.